Chapter 51
‘Your dinner’s in the dog,’ she said, repeating the witticism she often came out with when he got back late.
At that moment, Pam hurried in. ‘Take no notice. Mum’s offered to babysit.’
‘Have I?’ Della sounded affronted.
‘Yes, you have. We’re going out for a pizza.’
‘We don’t need a babysitter. We’re not babies,’ piped up a voice from the doorway. It was Amelia. As he entered the room, Wesley noticed that she was holding a set of Beast Book cards. The craze was still ongoing – until something new took its place.
‘I know you’re not,’ he replied, ‘but I’m sure there’s nothing Della would like better than to spend the evening with her two favourite grandchildren.
Isn’t that right, Della?’ He didn’t wait for a reply.
‘How are the goats? Gerry’s been singing their praises.
Says they’ve done wonders for his back.’
He could have sworn he saw Della blush.
‘Er . . . we’re having to get rid of them. Turns out June’s allergic. She’s been suffering from terrible skin irritation ever since we opened. We’re thinking of trying sheep. Could Rachel . . . ?’
‘I’ll ask her,’ said Wesley, trying hard to hide his amusement. He turned to Pam. ‘The team are having a few drinks in the Tradmouth Arms later to celebrate. We’ve just arrested a serial killer.’
‘Well, I suppose that’s worth celebrating. Tell Gerry we’ll be there after the pizzas.’
The look on Della’s face when she found out they were going to make a night of it was priceless.
When they finally arrived at the Tradmouth Arms, the celebrations were in full swing. Gerry’s daughter, Alison, was there, a glass of Prosecco in her hand, chatting to one of the young DCs and looking as though she was enjoying herself.
They saw that Neil had also joined the group. And Annabel was with him.
‘Is all well?’ Wesley asked Neil when Annabel left him to talk to Pam.
‘Never been better.’
‘Miles Fontescue?’
‘His missus was away because her mum was ill. Annabel swears that she and Miles are just friends.’
‘Glad to hear it. What’s in the bag?’ He nodded towards the canvas tote bag Neil was holding in his lap as though it contained precious jewels.
‘We shouldn’t really have brought it to the pub, but .
. . Miles gave it to Annabel today. There’s maintenance work being carried out in the family chapel at Fontescue Hall and it was found in an old box hidden under the altar.
It had probably been there for centuries and the family had no idea it was there.
We’re dropping it off at the museum tomorrow for conservation. ’
‘What is it?’
Neil lowered his voice. ‘It’s the Fontescue Bestiary.
Late fifteenth century. You know that chronicle I told you about?
The one written by Brother Anselm? Well, it’s mentioned in there.
A killer paid for it to be made at the monastery as penance for his sins.
He paid for the chapel we’re excavating as well.
And renamed the well after the patron saint of murderers.
And we now know why that skeleton was reburied in the chapel.
It was a man called Simon Garnet, who was hanged when the real killer framed him for murder. ’
‘Who was the real killer?’
Neil paused as though he was expecting a drum roll before he made the announcement.
‘Thomas Fontescue, the lord of the manor. He confessed to his brother, Anselm, who of course couldn’t say anything because it was under the seal of the confessional.
As part of his penance, Thomas had the wrongly accused Simon reburied at the new chapel in consecrated ground.
I’ll give you a copy of the documents so you can read all about it at your leisure.
’ He grinned. ‘It’ll make a change from work. ’
Wesley laughed. ‘You think? Are you going to show me the bestiary?’
‘Annabel would kill me if I unwrapped it in the pub.’
‘And I don’t want another murder to investigate.’
The case was wrapped up and Jon Gadson was in custody awaiting trial. Helen, now determined to stay at Sycamore House, was encouraging Neil to widen the excavation, joining in the digging with manic enthusiasm, claiming she’d found her vocation in life.
It was three weeks after their night in the pub when Annabel invited Wesley and Pam to the archives in Exeter to view the valuable and rare bestiary that had lain well hidden and forgotten in the chapel at Fontescue Hall for centuries.
The ancient book lay on its special cushion, and they watched as she turned the pages carefully.
All creation appeared to be there, brightly coloured and strangely weird.
The medieval concept of an elephant looked comical, and the apes wore sinister grins.
When she came to one particular page, Wesley asked her to stop while he read the creature’s name. It was one that was only too familiar.
‘Lanzani,’ he whispered.
‘Vicious-looking thing,’ said Neil.
‘You couldn’t be more right,’ said Wesley, giving Pam’s hand a squeeze. ‘But of course the most potentially dangerous creature of all is man. Anybody fancy a drink?’